


An Inconsistent Logic

by Cryptographic_Delurk



Category: Genshiken
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Mid-Canon, Other, Trans Issues, rapidfire pronoun switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:24:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk
Summary: An examination of Hato's hectic first year in The Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture. Drawing, exams, egg sandwiches, gender, and anime.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written and submitted a year ago today for Hatozine, an online fanzine project for Genshiken Nidaime. I got permission to post my submission here, along with the rest of my work, but I highly encourage you to check out the rest of [Hatozine](http://hatozine.tumblr.com/). There were a lot of amazing art and story contributions!

Hato Kenjirou liked plans just as much as anybody else did.

Which was to say he liked them a great deal.

And, as he had learned, an important part of making plans was distinguishing the factors you could control in a situation, and those you couldn’t.

Hato could control which department program he signed up for in university, and which circle he joined. He could not control signing up for Korean Language elective classes. His father had insisted.

Hato could control how high or low his voice was pitched, after watching all those tutorials on NicoVid and practicing for three months. He could control how many hairs were sticking out from his chin – not _one_! But he could not control how many hairs grew in the first place.

Hato could control whether there was a long commute between his apartment and his university, or whether his apartment had a walk-in closet, but not both at once.

And Hato could not control the reactions from the other members of _The Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture,_ if they found out he wasn’t a fujoshi, but a _rotten_ fudanshi. But he could control whether they found out about it or not.

Hato glanced furtively down the hallway. Nobody had been in or out for the last fifteen minutes. It was probably safe.

He made a break for it, pulling inside and cheering internally at the four empty stalls.

He pulled quickly into the last one and began undressing.

Stockings- Scarf- Bra- The crossdresser’s top he had found online, that would emphasise the neckline and draw attention away from his shoulders and the skirt that would flare out and make his hips look wide… The outfit was complicated, but he had tried it on at home already. He didn’t even need to look in a mirror, as he adjusted the clothes to his figure.

 _They really do keep the girl’s restrooms cleaner,_ he thought, examining the surroundings, taking note of the little bins they kept nearby for _sanitary_ products.

It was kind of exciting, to be here, in the woman’s restroom.

But, then again, the men’s room would probably be just as exciting, dressed like this. That and a lot more dangerous. In multiple ways. Hato knew enough judo to take on attackers twice his size, but real life was unpredictable. It wasn’t like anime.

Hato pushed those thoughts to the corner of his mind as he buttoned his sweater and pulled on the pair of flats he had bought, a simple pair of slippers with black bows over the top. He stuffed his old pair of sneakers in the bottom of his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder as he exited the stall. The rest of the bathroom was still empty, and all that was left was to put on his wig and apply his make-up.

He set his bag beside him, on the counter next to the sink and gazed at the mirror on the wall in front of him. He already felt like a girl, dressed like this, so he was surprised at how little he looked like one, with such short hair and poorly accented facial features. But it only made the transformation more profound, as Hato pulled the nylon cap over his hair and adjusted the wig over it, pinning it in place with a couple bobby pins.

The last thing he did was run his tube of shiny pink lip gloss over his lips. He smiled at himself, admiring how wholly perfect he was like this.

Like this, she could even fool herself into thinking she was a girl.

The club Hato was thinking of joining met across the quad, two buildings over, and up four flights of stairs. She had considered the Manga club, and a couple others, but the president of _The Society for the Study of Modern Visual Culture_ was an artist, which appealed to her. And (if Hato was recognising the influences on her drawing style correctly) the president was also a diehard fujoshi, which appealed to Hato even more.

Everything was accounted for, which was why Hato was embarrassed, but not too surprised when everything went perfectly. The female members of the Genshiken didn’t bat an eye when she walked through the door. They offered her a seat, and spoke encouragingly when Hato voiced her approval of Yoshitake’s plan to discuss BL, and reached forward to take a look at the sample of works that Yoshitake had provided.

But, although Hato had no way of knowing it at the time, Kuichi-sempai could be counted on for nothing, except to be the wild card in every situation.

Hato could not account for the fact that Kuichi, like a grade-schooler with a crush, would reach forward, entranced, and tug at a stray strand of her hair, like a loose string that would unravel the entirety of Hato’s existence for the farce that it was. The other members of the Genshiken stared at her, jaws gaping, and Hato couldn’t help but be brought to tears by the inevitable fragility of any carefully constructed plan.

==

Yajima seems uncomfortable letting Hato into her apartment. She hesitates, standing in front of the door for a moment too long, before ushering him and Yoshitake inside.

Yajima also seems uncomfortable with the fact that Yoshitake went ahead and bought the beer and wine coolers she was eyeing in the store.

Hato’s grateful, because he’s a little uncomfortable with the situation too. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one, and it’s doubly nice that Yajima’s loud enough about it that he’s not the one who ends up looking like the prude. He almost wishes Yajima would be more uncompromising and refuse to let them drink at all.

But when Yoshitake pushes a can in each of their hands, Yajima just gives a weary sigh and snaps it open, and Hato has to do the same.

Hato tells himself it’s not something he can really avoid. Girls go out drinking just as often as guys… nowadays... probably. This was already part of the deal, when he decided he would do whatever it took to connect with other fujoshi.

And it’s good practice for the business world. If he becomes a salaryman, like everyone expects him to, he’ll have to get used to attending drinking parties with his co-workers.

“Drink up! Drink up!” Yoshitake encourages.

Yoshitake downs the last dregs of her beer, and Yajima is more than halfway through hers. Their eyes meet, and Yajima nods, halfway between understanding and scrutinising.

Hato raises the can to his lips.

…

The drink is sweet and doesn’t taste anything like the rice wine his father poured for him after his high school graduation, which emboldens him. He tips the can up a little bit more, and thinks it won’t be so bad.

“There we go, Hato-chan!” Yoshitake cheers. “Now-”

She pulls out a bag of shrimp flavoured chips and tears it open, dropping a few on the carpet.

“Now, isn’t it time for to discuss our hereto undisclosed impressions of the previous generation Genshiken members?!” Yoshitake cackles. “First meeting start!”

It takes Hato a couple more drinks to realise what he was so worried about.

Yoshitake is rambling on. Somewhere along the way, she’s gotten on the subject of _Romance of the Three Kingdoms_. The way Yoshitake’s mind blips between classic literature and the Genshiken’s social dynamics and BL is a bit of a mystery to Hato. Yajima seems just as lost in the whirlwind, but she at least volunteers a couple of words every so often.

Hato is just sitting there, curling his toes into the carpet, biting the bottom of his lip to keep from talking.

He’s still thinking about the things he hadn’t said when Yoshitake brought up the other Genshiken members before. About how he admires Ogiue Chika-sempai’s drawings and work ethic. About how he thinks he might be a little jealous of Ohno-sempai and Tanaka-sempai’s close relationship. About how grateful he is to Madarame-sempai for letting him use his apartment to change. About how Madarame-sempai has his DVDs organised by production company and release date, rather than by title. About how Madarame-sempai’s glasses sometimes fall too far down his nose and he lifts his head to set them back in place, and how endearing Hato finds that.

Hato doesn’t want to say any of that, and there are other things too. He doesn’t know what they are yet, but he’s afraid of what might come dropping out of his mouth once he starts.

Alcohol is scary. He scarcely knows what he’s thinking. How could he even know what to say?

He reaches out to hold Yoshitake’s hand, and to clasp Yajima’s hand with the opposite arm.

Yoshitake abruptly stops talking, and Yajima blushes, or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

He’s surprised, but they let him keep hold. Yajima’s hand is a little more pudgy, but they’re both soft. He lifts them both up to his cheeks to feel them more fully.

“Whoa, Hato-chan!” Yoshitake says. “Your skin! It’s so soft! What do you do to it?!”

Yajima flinches and pulls her hand away from his.

“Huh?” is Hato’s delayed response.

He lets his hands fall back down and entwine on his lap, but Yoshitake’s still brushing her hand over his right cheek.

“C’mon, it’s just us girls! You have to share your beauty routine!” Yoshitake prods, drawing her finger over Hato’s chin.

Hato frowns. He bites his lip harder and shakes his head.

“Tell us! Reveal your secrets! What do you do to your skin? Let me feel your legs too! Are they also that soft?”

Hato shakes his head.

“You’ve been so quiet, Hato-chan!” Yoshitake whines. “You didn’t share your opinions on our upperclassmen, either.”

Hato shakes his head, turning away from Yoshitake and downing some more of the beer.

“Heh, heh! Hato-chin, it’s no fun if you don’t share…” Yoshitake grins.

Yajima finally sees fit to intervene. “Leave him alone already. Can’t you see he doesn’t want to talk?”

“That’s not true!” Yoshitake protests. “I bet I can get him to talk with one simple sentence!”

Yajima doesn’t accept the bet verbally, but Hato watches her raise one eyebrow in challenge.

Yoshitake grins. “I don’t think Shizaya is a feasible pairing,” she says smugly.

The silence in the room is deafening.

“That’s not true at all!” Hato bursts out. “The showrunners have already _acknowledged_ Shizaya’s potential! Or else they never would have had Erika gush about it in the actual episodes like they do!”

And like a dam, it all comes rushing out after that. Hato even pulls off his pantyhose later, so Yoshitake can run her hand over his leg and marvel at his pore cleansing routine.

==

Madarame-sempai just can’t keep his apartment clean. Which is something that Hato thinks you should expect from a young man living by himself, despite the fact that he keeps his own apartment immaculate.

Hato sweeps the tissue paper and crumpled receipts off the floor. He returns Madame’s PC games to their shelves, and covers the dishes in the sink in soapy water, in preparation for washing.

It’s the least Hato can do, since Madarame-sempai has gone through the trouble of making a copy of his apartment key, and is letting Hato change here all the time. But as much as it’s gratifying to feel helpful and needed, cleaning up the same mess for the sixteenth time can’t help but be frustrating.

It’s only because he owes Madarame-sempai that he endures – that’s what Hato tells himself. He feels a little bit bad for housewives, having to spend a lifetime cleaning up for the same man, and after that man’s children. Hato might be good at cleaning, but he wouldn’t choose a lifetime of it. He’d be foolish to, right?

Hato hasn’t exactly changed his mind, but it becomes less clear after Hato accidentally falls asleep, lying on Madarame’s bed.

_A housewife would touch his shoulder gently like this, and wake him out of his slumber, right?_

Only then Hato comes to and realises that Madarame’s the one who woke him up, and he’s dressed as a guy, with rotten thoughts surging through his head, and he’s not sure what’s more embarrassing – thinking about Madarame as an archetypical BL character, or mistaking him for an imaginary wife.

Hato shouts out apologies, not quite hearing any of the words. He grabs his duffel bag off the floor and tries to make a break for it, but ends up tripping and falling right into a cabinet.

“Calm down, Hato-kun,” Madarame says. “You’re still half asleep.”

Hato whimpers in pain, and allows Madarame pull him up and seat him back down on the edge of the bed.

“Why don’t you just relax for a little bit,” Madarame says. “I was in the mood for pasta tonight…” He reaches for a grocery bag he’s set on his computer chair and holds it up. “…and it would be nice if I had somebody besides myself enjoyed my cooking, for once.”

Hato doesn’t really agree, but he gets suckered into it anyhow. He sits, half watching the television and half watching Madarame cook, and thinks devious thoughts.

The pasta is very good. The cherry tomatoes and the seafood are both fresh, and the garlic smells as good as it tastes. Madarame thanks him for his help with the cleaning.

And Hato’s a little upset. He can’t cook nearly this well, and he’s supposed to be the one with the _girl power_. But he’s even more upset because this makes the cleaning worth it, more than worth it – to have somebody show appreciation for your hard work, and to see them willing to return the favour. Madarame labouring over the pasta as Hato sat quietly and did nothing more than think and breathe…

They sit and talk about everything and nothing and particular, and Hato makes a point not to wonder if this type of effortless give and take is what relationships are made of.

==

“You like Tizer on the bottom, right? So far as his relationship with Bonny is concerned right?” Yoshitake asks eagerly.

“Hmm, that’s right,” Hato agrees, pausing in his sketching. Yoshitake is impressed with the speed and accuracy with which he draws, but she doesn’t know he’s just copying Kaminaga.

“Juniors dominating seniors has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Hato adds. “It’s not always my favourite setup, but Bonny has a pretty domineering personality, so…”

“But when ya think about it, Bonny plays the damsel in distress a lot, doesn’t he?” Yajima asks in a bored voice.

Yoshitake clicks her tongue. “We all know you’re just disagreeing to be difficult, Yajimachi. We all know you agree with Hato that Bonny is a better top, but you’re picking a fight because you suck at drawing!”

“Just what do those things have to do with one another?!” Yajima protests. “And anyhow, it’s supposed to be a _discussion_! I was bringing a valid point to the _discussion_!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoshitake laughs, waving Yajima off. “But Ogiue-sempai disagrees right? She doesn’t like to have glasses characters on top, yeah?”

Ogiue looks up from the other side of the table. She’s looking over the newest issue of Shounen Sunday. Ohno is sitting next to her, building the model for an old gundam.

“Er, I like glasses characters on the bottom, typically,” Ogiue admits.

Ohno laughs.

“Don’t dodge the issue, sempai?!” Yoshitake hounds her. “Take a stand! You disagree with Hato-chan and like Bonny on the bottom, right?”

“Actually I was planning on putting out a bottom-Bonny book for ComicFes,” Ogiue says, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Aha! So you disagree ferociously with Hato-chan on this issue! Is it time for Genshiken’s first ever _The-Reverse-Pairing-Is-Just-Wrong_ catfight?! Ohno-sempai and Ogiue-sempai versus Hato-chan and Yajima-chan! _Go_!”

Ogiue catches Hato’s eyes across the table.

“Er… I don’t think so,” she says.

“I’m actually fine with reverse pairings.” Hato shrugs. “Or reversible pairings, even.”

He puts the final touches on his sketch, shading in the dark stripe on Tizer’s hat, and hands it to Yoshitake, who’s whining about how they’re no fun.

She brightens up immediately.

“Wow, it’s really hardcore, as usual,” she says, elbowing Yajima in the shoulder.

Yajima looks over at the drawing and scowls.

“I guess you really are a true fujoshi to the core, Hato-chan,” Yoshitake trills, eliciting vague grumbles from most of the room.

“Well-” Ohno smiles, her voice cutting clear through the room. “Was there ever any doubt? Right from day one, Hato-chan has given it her all.”

Hato blinks.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s bothered by how much it means to him.

==

“I hate Korean,” Hato says.

They’re sitting together in the club room again, just the three of them this time. Hato’s supposed to be talking about his preference in _Ten Piece_ pairings, or his initial impression of the press release for the new fujoshi-themed anime _Suikyuu!_ But instead, he’s slumped over in his chair, studying for the Korean exam he’s going to have on Thursday.

“I hate the pronunciation, I hate the vocabulary, and I hate hangul! Who’s idea was it to stop using the Chinese characters anyhow?!” Hato seethes.

Yoshitake pushes up her glasses. “I’m glad you asked. The truth lies in the enthralling and dynamic tales of the Joseon Dynasty’s royal court…”

Yoshitake is lost in her historical spiel, but Yajima remains present. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair.

“Why are you taking Korean anyhow?” she asks, gruff and to the point. “It’s not required for your major, is it?”

Hato sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not required, but I have to take it,” he says, pulling down the sleeves of his sweater. “My father-”

Hato pauses, filling in a couple more words on his study guide.

It’s not something he’s really supposed to talk about, but… It’s not like Yajima and Yoshitake don’t already know much worse things already...

“My father’s only half-Japanese,” Hato says. “My grandmother was Korean.”

Yajima gives him a surprised look, and Yoshitake too.

“You can’t really tell by looking at him,” Hato rushes to clarify. Rushes to remove those curious glances off of him. “His actions are not very obvious either. His mother taught him Korean, but it’s not something you really share outside your household, you know.”

“Well, that’s not really surprising considering…” Yoshitake begins another speech. This time it’s about comfort wives and other uncomfortable topics.

Yajima only nods.

“Now that he’s older though, and my grandmother’s gone, he regrets not teaching me to speak it,” Hato clarifies. “I think he’s desperate for somebody to speak to him in his mother’s tongue, within the safety of his own home.”

Yajima nods again.

“So he’s making you learn it?” she asks.

“Yes,” Hato says, flipping through the study guide and frowning at the unfamiliar characters. “I promised I would when he agreed to send me to Tokyo.”

“And you can’t quit because he’d cry if you did?” Yajima says.

“Yes,” Hato says tersely.

He hears how angry it sounds and feels guilty.

“Do you know what else sucks about the class?” he says, eagerly trying to divert the conversation back to happy waters. “Everybody in the class is crazy about Korean dramas! Everyone’s always going on about this actor or that actress. Everybody’s so normal, so _riajuu_! Can’t they see it’s all about BL, and 2D-”

“And if you go home dressed like that, your father will cry then too?” Yajima persists, pointing at Hato’s knee high boots and skirt.

Hato clenches his teeth.

“My father isn’t going to see me dressed like this,” he insists.

“Oh?” Yajima says. “Then what about when you need to get your sex altered in the family register? If you wait until then, I’m sure it will be more than just tears.”

“That won’t happen!”

“Then you’re going to wait until your father dies,” Yajima bites out. “You’ll wait until you’re the oldest and already have a wife and child. You’ll wait until you’re the only person in your family register you _think_ you have to answer to! You’ll fumble around that long, before you finally admit anything!”

“That won’t happen!” Hato says. “I’m not even like that! I don’t think of myself as a girl or anything!”

Privately, Hato’s not so sure.

“You’re going to make them cry anyhow,” Yajima says harshly. “So you may as well forget Korean and just live how you want from the start. Look after your own happiness first!”

She blushes.

“Ah! Yajimacchi…”

Hato startles. He forgot Yoshitake was right there.

Yoshitake shakes her head and sighs. “Yajimacchi really does take things too far!”

“Shut up,” Yajima mutters. She turns to the side, away from them both.

“Yajimacchi… you know which couple you two remind me of?” Yoshitake teases.

“I said, shut up!” Yajima roars, karate chopping Yoshitake on the head.

Hato laughs.

He really does _hate_ Yajima sometimes. She’s so earnest and heartfelt and harsh and _honest_. She cares so much, even if she doesn’t know how to show it, except with cruelty.

Hato wishes he were that type of woman. He wishes Yajima wasn’t quite so far out of his reach.

==

Hato Kenjirou liked plans just as much as anybody else did.

Except, he didn’t really know that.

Hato only knew how much Hato liked plans. Maybe he only assumed that everybody else liked them just as much as he did.

In actuality, Hato already knew things didn’t quite add up.

It wasn’t possible to be completely objective about your own experiences. In fact, it wasn’t possible to be completely objective about anything.

Hato was only Hato. It wasn’t possible to know what it was like to live as someone else. And, lacking any form of contrast, it also wasn’t possible to know what it was like to live life as _yourself_.

…

Hato fidgets on the bench.

They’re waiting for Madarame and Kasukabe-san to finish their conversation in the club room.

No, that’s not even true. They’re not waiting for anything as innocent as a conversation to finish. They’re waiting for Kasukabe-san to _dump_ Madarame, even if he never works up the nerve to confess.

It’s a cruel gambit they’ve played, and they’re nervous… about how it will end… about how their feelings have become so selfish.

Hato doesn’t know what his feelings are, exactly, but he and Sue and Keiko-san aren’t natural partners. They’re brought together in this common cause, but all with conflicting interests.

The wait is unbearable, though, and Hato is stuck sitting next to them.

Sue is visibly anxious. She’s turned away from him, tapping her signpost against the ground, and fussing with the crown on her _Atelier Meruru_ cosplay.

Keiko-san doesn’t seem nervous. She’s leaning back against the bench, with her arm flung over the seat, behind Hato. She doesn’t seem nervous at all, but it’s the only explanation for the words that come out of her mouth.

“So, can I feel your boobs?” she asks.

Hato wants Keiko-san to be looking past her, to Sue, but she isn’t.

Hato feels herself gasp and her face colour, scandalised.

“Well, I mean, they’re fake anyway, right?” Keiko-san says.

“We-well… yes, but…” Hato shudders.

“So it’s okay, right?” Keiko-san persists.

Keiko speaks so calmly and coolly, Hato can’t help but lean back in her seat and allow Keiko’s hands to roam over her.

Hato imagines the foam inserts are real. That Keiko’s hands are roaming over smooth, heavy, soft flesh and round nipples.

“Oh, _wow_. They really are fake…” Keiko breathes.

Her hands don’t fall away though.

Hato keeps her eyes closed and pretends that this is real.

Keiko’s hands finally do drop away, though, and Hato opens her eyes.

She looks down at the small lumps poking out from her sweater.

They look real enough, like this. They don’t _feel_ real, but Hato feels _that_ they’re real.

Keiko-san isn’t done with her, though.

“So, like, you still think of yourself as a guy… right?” Keiko-san asks, leaning suggestively into Hato’s side.

“Well… yes,” Hato replies. She feels the seductive press of Keiko-san’s breasts into her arm.

“Then that means you still want to do it with girls, right? Could you do it even if you were dressed as a girl, too?” Keiko says.

Hato feels the blush rising in her cheeks. She sees the blush in Keiko’s cheeks, rising up red to match hers.

But then Keiko-san makes a face at something and turns away.

Hato flips her head around quickly, and catches the fleeting glances of a truly terrifying glare from Sue.

Keiko’s pulled away almost completely.

“Just kidding-” Keiko-san begins to say, carelessly.

“Wait!” Hato interrupts.

Keiko pauses and looks at her.

Hato turns for Sue’s reaction, but Sue is turned resolutely away, refusing to involve herself twice.

Hato gulps and turns back to face Keiko again.

Keiko meets her gaze. She looks bored slouched back in her seat, almost daring Hato to climb on top of her and liven things up.

“I do! ...still want to do it with girls…” Hato mumbles. “…I could.”

==

“Welcome to my place,” Keiko had said as she ushered Hato inside. “Sorry it’s such a mess.”

Hato placed her duffel bag down on the floor, next to the kotatsu, and took a seat as Keiko went to go shower.

Keiko hadn’t said that just to be courteous. Keiko’s apartment really is very messy. A collection of old beer cans is stacked on the corner of the kotatsu. An arts and crafts set, used for making homemade cards and stationary, is spread out over the rest of it. The scissors are lying with the blades spread dangerously. Keiko’s nail clipper sits on the edge of the table, with a small pile of red-polished clippings. There are dirty clothes scattered all across the floor, surrounding Hato entirely. And behind her, Keiko’s sheets are piled up haphazardly at the end of the mattress.

Hato has to force herself to sit still and not clean it up. She doesn’t know how anybody could live in such a messy apartment, but she doesn’t need to know how to live in it to stay the night.

Hato fidgets with the buttons on her sweater, fastening and unfastening them. She’s trying not to pay too much attention to the sound of the shower turn off, and the sound of Keiko’s footsteps as she walks around the bathroom, and then through the rest of the apartment.

Hato feels her pulse quicken, and the anticipation building, burning in her chest.

Keiko is taking much too long to get ready, and Hato suspects Keiko’s doing it purposefully, if only because that’s what Hato would do, if she knew anything about seducing anyone. Hato doesn’t give Keiko the satisfaction of following her around the apartment with her eyes but, eventually, her patience is rewarded, and Keiko walks right up to her.

Hato turns.

Keiko is standing over the kotatsu (over Hato) and leaning down imperiously. Keiko has one arm resting comfortably on her hip, and a white towel hung hung over the back of her neck. And she’s wearing a loose tracksuit, zipped halfway down so Hato can see inside if she peeks at the right angle.

“Hey! You! I bought this for Watanabe, in case he ever came by my workplace. I thought you might get a kick out of it!”

Keiko pulls her other arm out from behind her back, unfurling a cosplay outfit hanging on a blue hanger. It’s Rei’s white plugsuit. From Evangelion.

“Oh, um…” Hato begins, turning her legs and torso to face Keiko more directly.

“You’re just some otaku, too, right?” Keiko asks. “What do you think?” she asks, pulling the suit tight against her body. “Your type of thing? Think I can pull it off?”

“Well, um…” Hato colours badly. “Sure. But, it’s not really my thing. I mean- I like Evangelion too, but… Hmm… For me, my interest is primarily Kaworu/Shinji.”

Keiko makes a face. “Wha-?” she says, baffled, still holding the cosplay out in front of her.

“Hmm, how should I put it?” Hato murmurs to herself, trying to think of the best way to explain to Keiko. “Typically speaking anyway, male otaku are more fixated on individual characters, while female otaku care more about the relationships between characters… So it’s not that I don’t like Rei or anything but, from my perspective, there’s no way Rei comes close to beating Kaworu/Shinji. So I guess that’s where I’m coming from,” Hato concludes solemnly.

“What are you saying?” Keiko laughs. She throws the suit over her shoulder and bends over further, with both hands on her hips this time. Hato can see her cleavage, and she blushes.

“You are a guy, so isn’t that backwards,” Keiko says.

“Oh, uh, I guess so,” Hato says, sheepishly. “I guess if I just think about the characters…”

Hato fumbles. She’s about to say Kaworu is her favourite, but that seems like the wrong thing to say.

“I like Asuka a lot,” she chooses. It’s not even a lie.

Keiko brightens. “Is that the girl with the red suit?” she asks. “I think I have that one in my closet.”

She turns away to go retrieve it, but Hato reaches up and grabs her by the arm.

Keiko turns into her, and Hato suddenly realises Keiko was waiting for this. Keiko has been waiting for Hato to realise she’s right there within an arm’s reach. She looks at Hato expectantly.

“Oh, uh…” Hato says, feeling her face grow hot. “You don’t need to do that. I mean… Not all otaku are into cosplay. You’re fine as you are, Keiko-san.”

“Call me Keiko-sempai,” Keiko suddenly insists. “You know I was originally planning to go to uni, like my brother. And I’m an unofficial member of the Genshiken… so that makes me your upperclassman!” Keiko decides suddenly. “So you should call me Keiko-sempai.”

She breathes the last word heavily.

Hato sits back down into her seat, and Keiko follows her down.

“Keiko… sempai…” Hato tries out. Her voice comes out too deep, almost in a croak.

Keiko giggles.

“Keiko-sempai,” she tries again, in a higher pitch this time, but breathing heavily.

It’s a lie, but an erotic one. The older beauty, taking the impressionable younger girl under her wings. Like a Class S novel, except more sexual, like BL.

“Yeeessss?” Keiko purrs.

“Can I? I don’t know… anything?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keiko says, her lips brushing the skin near Hato’s ear. “Virgins are something special, in their own way. You’ll learn.”

“K-keiko-sa- sempai-” Hato stutters.

“We should move up to the bed,” Keiko suggests.

They don’t make it there right away, though, because Keiko unzips her tracksuit the rest of the way and moves Hato’s right hand up to her chest and they can’t stop after that.

Keiko smells like violets and soap and musk and… what else? Hato can’t even tell, because she’s too busy feeling Keiko’s form. Keiko’s skin is taut, but it yields easily under Hato’s touch, and Hato feels around Keiko’s hip and pulls the tracksuit down in the process.

“Oh, oh!” Keiko moans, even though Hato’s not sure she’s done anything yet.

Keiko scoots up into Hato’s lap, knocking a ruler and a bottle of ice tea off the side of the kotatsu in the process. Hato ignores it. She bends up and kisses Keiko’s chin, leaving some lip gloss behind in the process.

That’s the first thing to go.

Hato pulls Keiko closer to her, until her own back is pressed uncomfortably against her duffel bag. She grinds up into Keiko’s thigh through her skirt, while her hands are still roaming over Keiko’s supple skin.

It’s so malleable – Keiko’s feminine form. Hato can’t stop from clutching it close but, as she kisses up Keiko’s collarbone, she can’t tell why anymore? How much does Hato want Keiko’s body for himself, and how much does Hato want it for herself?

“S-sempai,” Hato says softly, and Keiko gives an approving hum that turns into a moan.

It’s a slow process, interrupted a great number of times. Keiko takes off Hato’s skirt first, and then her sweater. The white shirt goes next, and then the panties. Keiko unhooks her bra, removes the foam inserts that make up her breasts, and then peels off Hato’s stockings.

Finally only the wig is left, but Hato holds that in place when Keiko reaches up to remove it. Keiko frowns, but they’re far enough along at that point that she’s easily distracted when Hato lifts her up, kisses the underside of her left breast, and reaches down to pleasure her.

It all feels really, really good, but Hato can’t be distracted from the wig just like that. If she lets herself become any more naked, any more vulnerable, she thinks she just might die.

==

Keiko’s frustrated with Hato the next morning when he puts on woman’s clothes.

No, he provokes her, he knows.

He steps out of the shower and dries himself off with a towel and considers the question he’s going to ask carefully, and how he’s going to ask it. It’s completely intentional when he opens the bathroom door and sticks his torso out into the main room. He’s wearing only a bra.

“Keiko-sempai, is it okay if I borrow your beauty supplies?”

Keiko is lounging on her matrass, with her back slouched against the wall. She’s put on her tracksuit again, and her hair is pulled up messily. She’s yawning, with her hand pulled up to her mouth, but when she turns to Hato, he sees the way her eyebrow twitches angrily.

“No!” she snaps.

Hato smiles.

“Alright, Keiko-sempai. Thanks for letting me know!” he says.

He pulls the bathroom door closed.

It still takes him twenty minutes to get ready, even without the equipment he needs for his usual routine. Choosing a wig. Pulling up his stockings, so they rest evenly on each leg. Applying his make-up.

He respects Keiko’s wishes for the most part, except for stealing a little bit of rose-scented skin lotion. He probably shouldn’t apply lotion, without cleansing his pores and applying skin toner first, only…

When he’s done he pulls his heavy duffel bag over his shoulder and exits into the main apartment.

Keiko is waiting for him. She’s standing, looking at the empty beer bottles and the craft set on her kotatsu. She’s looking at her fashionable clothes – strewn on the floor.

She turns to him.

Hato hikes his duffel bag further up on his shoulder.

“Thanks for everything, Keiko-sempai. I’ll be taking my leave now,” he says.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Keiko-san asks him.

“Eh, heh…” Hato’s laugh dies.

Keiko’s rubs her make-up off with a towel, and Hato sees her clear make-up free face and knows he was right about her. Sort of.

Her face _does_ look softer, without the heavy and harsh application of eyeliner and cover-up and rouge. Her face is white and soft and pretty – in the traditional sense.

But at the same time, without the make-up, it was impossible to attribute her rough and unforgiving expression to anything else other than the purest and most truthful form of her personality.

That clear and angry face is harsher than Keiko dressed in her most intimidatingly feminine outfit, ready for a night on the town.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Keiko-san repeats. “Didn’t you get it out of your system last night?”

She crosses and uncrosses her arms, and then shuffles on her feet, like she’s thinking about advancing on him.

“Um…” Hato falters.

Keiko sighs.

“C’mon. My boyfriend left some clothes here the other day. You can wear those home.”

She walks briskly over to her dresser and pulls one of the drawers open. Hato can’t see the plain grey shirt she pulls from the drawer.

“Keiko-san…” he says.

“It’s Keiko-sempai,” she snaps. Pulling the men’s clothes out of her dresser.

“I want to wear this!” Hato says, as firmly as he can, patting the hem of his long flowing top.

Keiko stops.

“And you’re not my sempai,” he says.

Keiko spins around. “Yeah, I was too dumb to get into uni like you! Is that what you want to hear!” she yells.

“Keiko-san…” he tries.

“Fine!” she yells, and turns away again.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly.

Keiko-san doesn’t respond. She faces the dresser resolutely.

He feels bad for her. Pities her. She’s let her self-worth get caught up in so many things outside of her control. Whether a university accepted her. Whether she could make guys chase after her heels. Whether she could make people change who they were for her.

Hato knows how that is. He pities himself too.

“I had a good time last night,” he says. He bows to her deeply, even though she can’t see, and he pulls on his Mary Janes, and leaves.

It’s already late in the morning. The train station isn’t too far away, but walking out of somebody else’s apartment, through the streets, wearing the same clothes you did the day before, wondering if you smell like sex…

Hato feels self-conscious. He wonders if modern women still feel this way the morning after, when they leave the apartments of their lovers. He hopes not.

After a while he gets used to it though. There are a lot of people in Tokyo. It’s nothing like Niigata. They don’t have time for him. They don’t have time to wonder into the details of his private life and what’s up his skirt.

Their indifference calms her.

She stops at a shopping plaza just before the train station and buys an egg sandwich from the convenience store. Stands outside and eats it quickly. The egg tastes so fluffy and buttery, Hato immediately goes back inside and buys a second one. It’s not really healthy, but she doesn’t want to think about cooking when she gets home. And it’s not like she eats out very often.

And then Hato locates the plaza’s restrooms. There isn’t a line for the boys room, or the girls. But Hato waits in line for the unisex restroom.

It’s not really meant for her. There’s a day care and children’s toy store located on the upper floor of the plaza, and the large unisex bathroom is provided for mothers with toddlers and newborn children. But Hato can’t go into the men’s restroom dressed like this, and she doesn’t want to anyway. On the other hand, she’s not ready for the woman’s restroom yet, and there might be trouble if the police got involved, as Ohno had pointed out once.

So Hato ignores the pointed looks from the mother waiting in line with her young son. Acts like she doesn’t notice a thing. Like she belongs there.

The mother in front of her holds the door open when she exits, and Hato bows shortly before disappearing inside, hanging her bag on the hook by the door.

The toilet is western style and Hato pulls up her skirt and sits and tries not to think too much.

She pulls out her cell phone and checks for messages, or missed calls.

There are none, but Hato thinks that’s okay. She thinks for a bit about who she wants to see, before typing out a message.

 

To: _Yajima Mirei_

 _You don’t have classes today right? Do you want to meet at my place and watch some of last season’s anime? Or maybe I can finally get you into_ Dorarara! _this time… Invite Yoshitake too._

 

Hato doesn’t expect a quick response, but it seems like as soon as the message is sent and the screen goes dark, it’s buzzing alive again.

Hato pulls up the message.

 

From: _Yajima Mirei_

_K. I’ll be there in a couple hours. I’ll text Yoshitake._

 

Hato smiles and pockets her phone.

As she gets up and makes her way over to the sink, she pulls the phone out again and types out another message.

 

To: _Yajima Mirei_

_You want to put out a doujin for ComicFes? Maybe we could colab on it. Or, actually, if we do an original story, maybe we can sign up for COMITIA instead?_

 

Hato sets the phone down on the sink and washes her hands. She can feel the stubble growing in on her chin and, when she looks in the mirror, and she can even see the tiny black dots, if she squints. She needs to take care of that. She’ll do it as soon as she gets home.

It’s not like the people notice the hairs though. Nobody stops her or looks at her funny. Hato wonders why nobody else ever seems to see them.

The phone buzzes again.

 

From: _Yajima Mirei_

_That’s dumb. ComicFes is only a month away, and COMITIA comes up right after that. When are we going to have time to apply or get a book together?! And who would want to see my crappy drawings anyhow?!_

 

Hato laughs. _Yeah, I guess it’s not possible,_ she thinks, pocketing the phone. She wonders if Yajima will bring her pencils and sketchbook over to Hato’s place anyhow, though.

She looks back in the mirror one last time. Her lipstick came off while she was eating. She goes to get her bag, swings it back over her shoulder, and retrieves her make-up kit, pulling out the glossy pink stick.

It runs smoothly over her lips, and Hato smiles at herself, before tucking the lipstick back in her make-up pouch, and sliding that back in her bag.

This isn’t so bad. She doesn’t look so bad, for now.

“Took you long enough!” the mother says, as Hato exits the restroom. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just use the girl’s room!” She doesn’t give Hato a chance to answer, before running inside, dragging her son by the arm behind her.

“I don’t either,” Hato says.

She shrugs, and then she goes to catch the train back home to her apartment.

 


End file.
